


Witchcraft

by extremesoft



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: Asphyxiation, Choking, M/M, Masturbation, No Plot/Plotless, a bit more on the weird side really, and as always, it's 3 and 33 back at it again, nothing graphic, rating mainly for the fact that there's choking but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 03:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20686826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extremesoft/pseuds/extremesoft
Summary: The first touch of Max’s fingertips landing on the pulsating skin of Daniel’s neck makes him tingle, his mortal coil and mind alike, the feeling ever nesting in his backbone and exploding from there.





	Witchcraft

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my sweet jeepers, I seem to be in a fairly productive mood for once? What is this? I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts and I can, it's not all day every day I have both the time and inspiration to write my kinky bullshit at work... :D Bad, bad me.
> 
> So anyway - the kink in question is something I've been wanting to write about for ages but found myself unable for reasons for a few months. Now that I've finally managed to get over myself, I'm actually really really thrilled to post. I tried to write this one a bit differently and apply a more drabble-ish style to this, sort of; but don't worry, it's still as flowery as ever, no need to fear I'd ever write concisely!
> 
> (Haha, I also thought that I've in fact written quite an amount of top!Max doing all sorts of stuff to Daniel, so it may come as pleasant news to some of you that yes, I'm also working on something that's going to let Max get thoroughly dicked down in his turn... :D)
> 
> Do heed the tags and warnings: I trust you're all smart enough to realize that preventing someone from getting air/cutting off proper circulation to their head is fricking dangerous. Take appropriate care if you're doing this at home, aight? As stated, this is not graphic and the rating is what it is merely because of the fact that a person is choked here, but if the topic is something you're not fully comfortable with for any reason, then please _do_ be careful if you proceed to read this. ♥
> 
> As always, I hope you all enjoy this, let me know if you do! ^_^ ♥

The importance of not skipping leg days always seems to highlight whenever they are doing this; when Max’s thighs bracket Daniel firmly to the floor and his weight rests on Daniel’s waist like the immeasurable weight of the universe itself and Daniel can feel air escaping from him already. Slow, like an unhurried bleed from a broken seal, and Daniel is lulled to the certainty that he’s going to briefly meet God.

Max smiles down at him. Silver sun, golden moon. Daniel isn’t quite sure whether he’s smiling back or whether he’s simply looking stupid and stunned, lust and anticipation lighting his senses and shadowing his wits.  
“You look good”, Max says casually while he slides his hand up Daniel’s sides and plants them on his collar bones for an odd second. A shiver shoots through Daniel yet he can’t even jolt up proper with Max atop him, sitting on his abdomen and making it hard to inhale, every move of air in and out of Daniel short and sharp and full of struggle.

He fucking loves it, having to fight to breathe, losing the fight. 

“Like I didn't know”, Daniel jests still, voice dripping his own hoarseness. He manages an asinine grin and Max huffs exaggeratedly in what’s nothing but amusement. His hands move again, further up. The first touch of Max’s fingertips landing on the pulsating skin of Daniel’s neck makes him tingle, his mortal coil and mind alike, the feeling ever nesting in his backbone and exploding from there. Max’s hands shift, it’s a well-practiced little choreography, and his palms come to settle right in the crook of Daniel’s throat and fingers in the corners below his chin like they had found home.  
"You look even better like this."

Daniel breathes in and Max doesn't let him turn it into a curveball of an answer before he presses down, gentle palms, steely fingers - stops the flood of blood and life to Daniel's brain and everything stops still and stays still and goes oh so _quiet_. Daniel's veins hammer against Max's as his face flushes - and his eyes look straight through Max's head, there and not - and Max can barely breathe himself, nursing the last breath he has caught in his lungs like something irreplaceable, lost forever at the next exhale and doomed to do exactly so in the end.

Max counts slowly to five (not out loud, there's a spell upon them and to speak is to break), loosens his hold and watches. Merely watches, taking the sight in with every sip of air, just the tips of his fingers light on Daniel’s jugular. Daniel's abdomen grinds harshly against Max's inner thighs and his half-hard cock against Max's arse, the blush spreads from his face to his neck, pooling in the places where Max's grip has been like imprints.

"Fuck" is all Daniel can bring himself to sputter. Max is too awed to smile. It's something like blood magic, witchcraft in his fists. Daniel grabs his thighs and the ecstasy and roughness in his grip sends a wave through Max, warmth and want - reassurance, somehow, it serves as a signal that he has done _good_.  
“Good?” he still asks. Just for good measure. Always eager to do better.  
“Yeah”, Daniel heaves, hands roaming mindlessly up and down the sides of Max’s thighs, tracing bewildered paths. “Fuck, Max, lemme-”

Max lifts himself without further ado, places his left hand on the floor next to Daniel’s ear and bows to bite his shoulder hard through the yellow shirt. Daniel hisses with the sting and his hands keep brushing Max’s rear as he fumbles for his own cock, seeing nothing, bare need guiding his hasty moves.  
“Again, yeah”, he simply says once he settles. Max straightens himself and sits down on Daniel’s waist again. He feels ripples of Daniel’s slow pulls as though aftershocks of them were vibrating through him and there’s a round stain on Daniel’s shirt where he has bitten, spots of saliva blotching the yellow. A surreal, intoxicating sight, Daniel spread underneath him; a fallen, wanton angel with his coyly glimmering halo of hair.

Max starts with his thighs this time, lodging Daniel more firmly between them and pressing - both sides, shattering grip, Daniel shackled in a vice Max’s body creates. Daniel’s breaths grow shallow and sharp along with the moves of his hand, not finding room for air inside himself, jerking himself off with quickening strokes. It has its inevitable effect on Max too, his cock stirs, hard and damp already inside his shorts, like urging him to just _please_ rut against Daniel. But this is about Daniel’s release first and foremost, not his own; Max’s moves are thus something almost stoic when he butterflies his hands on Daniel’s neck again and drives the last drops of air out of him.

“Fu-” Daniel tries and can’t even finish the simple curse any longer, body and throat squirming in Max’s hold and his hand working fast now, the slick sounds and hopeless attempts at whimpers crashing through Max. Max composes himself mid-count, finishes at ten and uncoils his fingers ever so lightly, earning a desperate _wait-_ that collapses into a violent coughing fit.  
“Shit-”

Max knows he is close, he has witnessed (_felt_) enough of Daniel’s orgasms to know the signs even through Daniel’s body squirming in fight to get air. He’s charitable, knows better than to try and drag it out just for the sake of it; he simply cocks his head and smirks down at Daniel.  
“You know you’re going to come all over my ass, right”, he says before mercilessly tightening his grip once more and watching as both Daniel’s watery eyes and dry mouth fall open with everything - desire, surprise, a mute gasp, the climax that reaches and brutally overcomes him. Max feels him go rigid and keeps the hold just a little longer, to let Daniel really _know_ he's spilling all over his own fist and Max's arse with Max's palms embracing his throat and Max's thighs lovingly crushing his lungs. Daniel comes in hot gushes, writhes with his body craving a luxury called oxygen, and his mouth keeps opening with nothing moving out or in, crying out without a sound.

Max loosens his hold of Daniel's throat and slowly lifts his hands; blood rushes to Daniel's face and neck and he doesn't start breathing again as much as he chokes on another fit of uncontrollable gasps and coughs that ricochet off the walls. Max is quick to climb off him, returning his lungs back to him. He lays down next to Daniel, right on the floor, and simply watches as Daniel's body bends and clenches with air piercing it once again. He barely recognizes his own arousal. Strange, how something so inherently visceral can suddenly feel so detached from him.

It takes a moment. Not long. Daniel stills, shifts and turns his bloodshot gaze to Max. The corners of his eyes glisten with tear streaks, his sweatpants are a gluey mess and his face and neck glow flushed and sweaty, but his chapped lips curve with a small, dreamy smile. (The inevitable sense of a knot coming untied inside him plunges through Max and flees; no-one ever said it wasn’t blood magic of the most powerful kind and fearsome as such, holding a life in one’s fists as well as witchcraft.)

“Max”, Daniel rasps, then stops as if having lost the rest of a sentence after uttering the first word of it. Max lifts his hand again, reminds it to be gentle and reaches to lightly brush Daniel’s curls.  
“Holy- shit.”  
“I think you mean it was good, if I understand right”, Max chuckles dryly and brings his fingers to Daniel’s arm, absentmindedly sketching invisible lines to echo those of the veins and muscles there.

Daniel snorts wearily but can’t argue; and what they settle for is a moment of quietude, breathing in and out, like reminding each other to do so without a word of mouth.  
  



End file.
